


Sacrifice

by ShakeThatCocktail



Series: Just the Little Kinks [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Creeper Derek, Frottage, Hairy Derek, Horn kink, M/M, Making Out, Minotaur Derek, Sacrifice Stiles, Underground labyrinth, claw kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sent to the labyrinth as a sacrifice to the Minotaur</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a Greek AU post on tumblr, so I thought this would be a little more fun to write
> 
> Rating has increased due to content (warning in the series description)
> 
> Enjoy and, as always; kudoses, comments, and bookmarks welcome :) xxx

Stiles usually enjoyed the sea; the salt on his lips, the chill winds ruffling his hair, the sounds of oars lightly slapping the clear blue water of the Athenian coast.He liked to hear the chants the captain kept up to keep the oarsmen in rhythm, and the easy banter between them when they'd dropped anchor and preapred to drop the cargo, be it foods and wine, fabrics and jewellry, or pottery and furniture.

Stiles wasn't enjoying the sea. The salt on his lips tasted like it was his last meal, the chill winds felt like hands brushing him as they said goodbye, and the oars did not slap Athenian waters, but that off of the coast of Crete. There was no chanting or banter, only the sound of a beating drum, and there was no inanimate cargo. _They_ were the cargo. Scott, Lydia, Allison, Braeden, Jordan, Danny, Kira, and himself, all destined for Crete. Well, destined for _under_ Crete. The boat rocked violently as the side of it bumped the dock, and grim faced sailors helped them onto dry land. Allison's legs gave out as soon as both her feet hit the wood, but Scott was there to immediatley catch her around the waist. The loving and protective gesture prodded the girl into floods of tears as royal guards baid them follow up the hill to King Peter's palace. Stiles and Lydia walked side by side in silence, and behind them, Jordan and Danny held hands, skin turning white with the force. Kira and Braeden walked at the back, heads held high and betraying no emotion.

Once in the palace, all of them were ushered into separate suites, where a small army of slaves were ready to prepare them for their sacrifice, stripping him of his simple cream tunic and loincloth. A large copper bath was filled with hot water and scented oils, and Stiles tensed slightly at the soft hands of one of the maidens who began to massage his bare shoulders. Once the water had turned tepid and was milky with the number of oils used, Stiles was helped out of the tub and rubed down with a soft linen towel, and then was approached by a broad-shouldered slave with curly hair, who held in his hands a small amporae- no bigger than his forearm- that was decorated with black glaze and red gems. With the help of another slave, they smeared a light pink cream over Stiles' torso, arms, and thighs. It didn't seem to have any effect on Stiles at all; it didn't smell of anything in particular, but it made goosebumps spring up over his skin when a soft breeze blew in through the fluttering gauzes in the windows.

Another slave presented him with a red silk tunic that had gold edging, and arranged it properly while another combed and oiled his hair, brushing it back from his face and then pushing it forward again, creating little ridges and spikes. The entire time, the slaves did not talk.

\---(____)---

Stiles could smell the entrance to the labyrinth before he saw it; the smell of damp stone, musk, and something so sickeningly sweet that it made his stomach roil with what it could be. Hot sand grated the underside of his feet as it slipped between the straps of his sandals, and his loose tunic created some form of breeze against his skin as it flapped in the light sea breeze. They were all dressed similarly; the boys in red and gold tunics, the girls in silver and white chitons with jewelled bands around their forearms to hold the fabric in place. All had been washed and perfumed. In their little group, they rounded a huge boulder of pale stone, and were then presented with the entrance to the labyrinth.

It was a huge, triangular crack in the rock, at least two people wide and two people tall. Just past the decorated entrance were burning torches, one for each of the sacrifices. _That's what we are_ Stiles thought. With one more solemn nod of the head, one of the guards that stood by entrance bade them enter, and with one final kiss in the sunlight, Scott and Allison disappeared first. Kira and Braeden went next, their muscles tense as they took the torches. Danny and Jordan were second last, a shy kiss to Danny's cheek was the boy's farewell. The guards looked expectantly at Stiles and Lydia, who in turn looked at each other. Stiles' eyebrows shot up his forehead as Lydia pulled him into a hug, soft skin against his, and she faintly smelt of lavender. With a small, brave smile, the redhead flounced ahead of him, head high, but with a slight wobble in her step.

Despite the heat, Stiles felt another sheen of sweat cover his body, and swallowing heavily, he walked into the cool recess and took the final torch.

\---(____)---

Stiles didn't know how long he'd been walking. It could've been minutes, or it could've been hours. The air around him was heavy and hot, like he was walking closer and closer into the heart of Tartarus. The torch did help him, lighting the next few feet ahead of him. Every now and then, his sandalled foot stood on something and there was a crunch, and Stiles swallowed heavily and closed his eyes, refusing to look down to see what it was. He thought he had a good idea. He hadn't come across or heard anything from the others, so he must've been in a different area of the labyrinth. The walls kept twisting and turning, suddenly cutting off or a corner appearing out of nowhere. The passages widened and narrowed, the stone walls uneven, and sometimes a path opened up into a small antechamber with a domed ceiling. There was usually three or four other passage ways, but the one Stiles had just wondered into had only one. It was directly across from him, and there seemed to be a faint red light emanating from it. Looking behind him, Stiles gnawed on his bottom lip before walking hesitantly towards the single archway.

Once through, the air seemed cooler, and the red light allowed him to lower his torch, casting telling shadows over a flight of stairs going downwards. He was already deep in the rock, and Stiles wanted to know how he could go any deeper. The stairs seemed to go on forever, but once he was at the bottom, Stiles' face slackened in surprise. He had entered a huge room, lit by a bright red fire in the middle. Shadows were cast up the walls, turning the niches in them almost pitch black. Against the far wall were two huge marble statues, the black stone reflecting the red light, and it lit up the grotesque, grimacing faces of the two minotaurs who faced him. Stiles dropped his torch, and the clattering of wood echoed around the cavern. Stiles held his breath at the loud noise, and he began to tremble when a growl responded.

"Who would enter the den of the Minotaur?" A voice asked from the shadows, and Stiles jumped backwards. A rumbling laugh shook around the room, sounding like it had slipped out of a grinning mouth. Honey eyes fell onto a shape moving in the corner- a figure, who slowly moved towards the fire. When they became full visible, Stiles couldn't help the gasp that slipped out. Strong, toned legs gave way to a muscled torso, hard lines completely visible as shadows from the flames. A smatter of hair covered his chest, a tapered line beneath his navel present, too. Broad shoulders and corded arms drew his attention away, and large hands swung next to a leather loincloth, the only piece of clothing Stiles could see on the man. He wasn't even wearing sandals. An involuntary whimper left his limps, and the figure's white, pointed teeth glinted in the light at the sound. The dark still shadowed most of his face, only a strong jawline and bridge of a nose visible. However, staring out of the dark at him, were a pair of scarlet eyes. "I will not ask again," he said, taking leisurely steps towards the trembling Stiles.

The brunette boy cast a quick glance over his shoulder, and saw that the doorway he had just come through was gone. The wall was completely solid rock. "S-S-Stiles," he stammered out, turning back around to face the man, who was now definitely much closer to him than he had been seconds ago. Both their faces were now cast in shadow- Stiles' because of the hulking stature of the man- and the man's eyes still burned bright.

"So you are what the Athenians have sent to appease me?" he asked, cocking his head slightly as he took the closing steps forward, now so close that there was hardly any light between them. A tremble ran through the teens body as the man raised a hand and he felt something sharp and cold trail down the side of his face and along the length of his neck. "Looks like they have finally done their job."

Stiles held his breath as the figure leaned in, the feel of stubble rasping against the bare skin of his shoulder, where he assumed the man's _claws_ had cut through the strap of his tunic. He hadn't even heard the rip. He was too focused on the mountain of man in front of him, the heat, and the musky smell of man and beast that overpowered him. It was only when the man's head moved further down, Stiles felt something hard and slightly rigid brush against the side of his head, bringing him out of the hazy daze the man's lips were inflicting on his collarbone.

"What's that?" Stiles asked, voice rough, and the man rumbled against his pale skin, which was now marked with multiple red marks and scratches from too-sharp teeth.

"Those are my horns," the man said, pausing his assault on Stiles. He chuckled as he heard Stiles' heartbeat speed up, and he took a deep breath before he was about to speak. Only no words came out, only a guttural growl that ended with Stiles gasping in surprise as he pushed roughly against the wall and crowded in by sweat-slicked skin. He couldn't help but moan at the feel of a long, rough tongue sliding over the skin that had been rubbed with the pink lotion, leaving trails that burned behind. Tentatively, Stiles reached a hand upwards and brushed his long fingers across the long arc of one of the horns. It was smooth, yet ribbed, much like the posture the man suddenly morphed into, teeth scraping a little harder against Stiles' skin, and they both moaned in unison.

"You stop doing that, and this will be over painfully quickly," the man growled, and Stiles- without thinking- wrapped his entire hand around the horn and followed the curve. The resounding growl shook his entire body. The man pressed closer, closer still, backing Stiles up against the wall until he could feel the damp wall through his fine tunic. The man's body was hard against his, dwarfing him finitely, and Stiles could tell their bodies were mimicking each other perfectly. Burying his other hand into the man's soft, dark hair, Stiles pulled him closer to his skin and used the leverage to push his hips up, grinding against the man, the other's body in the act of mimesis. A playful growl resonated against his chest, and he could feel sharp teeth curve up into a smile against the thin skin of his collarbone.

A punishing grind forward from the other man- along with the threatening piercing of his claws through the red tunic into his skin- had Stiles biting his bottom lip in a feeble attempt of a restraint to stop himself climaxing. His hand tightened slightly on the horn he was caressing, and an annoyed grunt was issued to him with another grind. The tiniest of whimpers escaped Stiles' clamped lips. In the light of the fire, he saw the man pull back with a devilish grin on his face.

"Why must you restraint yourself, Stiles?" he asked. "You're with a beast, and a beast knows only of release and selfless need. It doesn't know how to do gentle, or loving, or measured. It only knows how to _want_ , and _taste_ , and _take_." With each emphasision, the man nipped up each side of Stiles' neck, leaving bright red marks, until his lips were millimetres from Stiles'. "That is what I'm gong to do to you, and you will have to take it." He sealed his slightly-chapped lips over Stiles', drinking in the taste of fear, arousal, and honeyed wine, flicking his tongue against Stiles' plush lower lip and delving in once the boy's defence was Tartarus-low. With his tongue dominating his sacrifice, and a few well-timed rolls of his hips, the boy's hand clenched around his horn as he tipped his head back and yelled wordlessly, chest rising and falling rapidly. The man could feel the wetness seep through the thin fabric of the tunic and start to dampen his own loincloth. He watched the boy open his eyes, the golden fire in them now hazy and drunk, lash shadows fanning across his cheekbones. A predatory grin exposing all his sharp teeth and he leaned in dangerously close to the stretched-taught skin of Stiles' neck.

"Now," he whispered. "I take."


End file.
